


Endless

by sdlucly



Category: The OC (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Character Death, Future Fic, M/M, life after death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:13:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdlucly/pseuds/sdlucly
Summary: "I will wait for you."





	Endless

**Author's Note:**

> I remember writing this fic, ages ago. It was, weird, to say the least. 
> 
> Originally posted October, 2006.

_March, 2012_

 

They lie on the bed they have been sharing for almost four years. They lie together, a tangle of arms and legs and breathing and caressing. Seth's lying on his back, Ryan half draped over him. Ryan's hand makes a weird pattern from Seth's collarbone down to his left side, over his ribs to where skin meets the sheets. Ryan sighs and then leans over and kisses the trail he has made, soft kisses planted with nothing but sheer love.

Seth sighs, slowly, and when he breathes in, all he can smell is Ryan in his every pore, surrounding him so much that they have stopped being two people and have merged into one.

"I love you," Ryan whispers into the skin, soft and tender under his lips and fingertips, and Seth chuckles.

"I adore you."

Ryan grins, because those words will always be his undoing, the way those three words have become the sun of his world, the way they make everything right. Those three words, their very own secret.

"I love you," Ryan repeats, and then Seth's hands reach for his chin and brings him up, kissing him deeply and soundly and they find their way into each others arms and make love until the sun rises.

*****

_November, 2012_

 

The grass is green under his feet, and Ryan walks slowly, his very bones aching. The hand holding the roses tightens and he sighs, his breathing heavy. He reaches his destination and his chest hurts no less than it did the first time, only two months ago. He squats before the grave, his eyes narrowed and his lower lip between his teeth. Everything hurts, from his soul to his bones, and he places the roses on top of the tombstone.

"I miss you," Ryan whispers, because he doesn't know what else to say. "I miss you so fucking much."

His fingers reach for the stone, cold under his touch. The silver ring on his left hand catches the last rays of sun and shines, for a second, and his blood runs like ice through his veins.

"Now that you're gone, how do I breathe?"

The words meet nothing but cooling air in the darkening winter. He closes his eyes, head leaning forward as his hand touches the top of the gravestone. His fingers tighten around the stone until they hurt as much as his insides.

There are words he never knew the meaning of, words like love and perfect, like soulmate and eternity. Words Ryan never knew the meaning of until Seth showed them to him, and now, now it's too late to forget such meaning.

"I love you, Seth." Ryan breathes out, and those words don't find their match in thin air. He sighs, shakes his head and stands up.

They were two boys who found each other on a bright Saturday afternoon, after something as simple as opening the kitchen French doors. Two words were exchanged and that was it, that was the beginning of them, the start of the circle that will never find its ending.

But at the moment, it feels too difficult for Ryan to believe in forever.

"I will wait for you."

*****

_April, 2016_

 

It wasn't that he didn't like meeting friends who knew him in college, it wasn't that he didn't like meeting friends who would ask how he was doing, who would know that there once was a person who filled half of his soul. It was just something he didn't do anymore.

He ran into Mark once, a young architect who Ryan hired three years ago to work at the Newport Group. They became friends. Mark even invited Ryan to his wedding to his college sweetheart. Ryan didn't go, of course, it had only been a year and Ryan still wasn't ready to go to functions alone. So when they ran into each other a week before in a café, almost a year after Mark had changed jobs and was now working at an Architect firm in Los Angeles, Ryan was surprised to learn that Mark and Lucy now had a baby boy. Mark invited Ryan to meet the baby one afternoon, to go home and have some coffee with Lucy, who would really like that. Ryan gave in, still not certain why.

So one Friday afternoon Ryan walks into this small house in Los Angeles, and he gives Lucy a small hug and pats Mark's shoulder and then he's making his way into the bedroom.

Ryan knows something's different the moment he walks into the nursery, walls painted soft blues and whites, matching the sky. The baby's almost asleep in the crib, and Ryan closes the distance with the breath held in between his lips and his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, he's awake," Lucy says but Ryan barely takes notice. She picks up the baby and offers him to Ryan, who can't think of anything else to do but extend his arms.

When the weight of the baby settles into his arms, it feels like coming home. He can only lean forward, watching the baby's eyes flutter open. They look at him, straight at him, and Ryan feels something shifting inside him. He takes a deep breath, eyes closing down even as he does so. The air is clean and pure and easy and comfortable and home in his lungs, in that second, in the heartbeat it takes for him to lean forward and almost touch the baby's chin with his nose. It feels right and oh so perfect and Ryan can't help but think, _Now I can breathe._

Ryan blinks, blue eyes meeting black, and his breath catches in his throat. "Hey," he whispers, because it feels right that the first time he's meeting him, once again, that he says this. It's their destiny, in a way, and he can't help but grin. His right finger reaches forward, slowly, touching one tiny eyebrow, moving down to the whisper of brown hair that feels like silk under his fingertips. Everything about the baby is small and perfect and precious and so very beautiful, there are no words for Ryan to describe what he's feeling.

Standing straight, Ryan's surprised to see that Lucy's smiling at him and Mark nodding.

"Wow, he's really taken to you," Lucy says, grinning from ear to ear. "He doesn't like strangers that much. He cries when someone tries to hold him."

He clears his throat and says, "Yeah, well, I like him too." He glances at the baby in his arms, shifting slightly, pulling the small body closer to his chest. Ryan looks over his shoulder at both proud parents. "What's his name?"

"Sean," Lucy says with a nod, "Sean Austin."

Ryan nods, looking down at black eyes that seem to know him, to recognize him, and he whispers, "Nice to meet you, Sean Austin Scully."

*****

_October, 2016_

 

In the following months, Ryan can't help but feel like an idiot, specially when he sits in the office, picture of him and Seth on his desk, arms around each other's waists and shoulders respectively, Seth grinning at the camera and Ryan with a curl of his lips.

It gets worse when he finds his way back home, to a house that has stopped listening to laughter since one cold November, what feels like ages ago. He feels like an idiot because what he felt last April in that small apartment, the energy he felt when he walked into the nursery and held that baby in his arms -- Sean Austin Scully, born April 8th, a Friday afternoon, six pounds nine ounces, nineteen inches, fourteen days before due date and after seventeen hours of labor that made Lucy see stars and curse Mark ten ways to Sunday -- can't possibly be true.

Each time he thinks about it, either at home or office, each and every single time, he feels like a fucking idiot. It's not possible to be certain of something as ludicrous as knowing that that baby has Seth's soul inside. It's just fucking impossible.

And yet, each and every time he walks into the apartment, to the nursery where Sean is sleeping or into the kitchen where Lucy has the baby in his portable cradle, Ryan feels convinced that he might be insane, but he's very much right.

So when Sean is six months old and Lucy has forgotten something for dinner, she asks Ryan if he could keep the baby company for an hour, two at the most.

"He's already been fed, but if he cries, you can give him a bottle in the fridge."

Ryan blinks, confused, and sure, he's fed Sean before, of course, but never alone. Never. And he knows just how warm the milk should be and how to hold Sean correctly and how to change his diapers and he's learned more about babies in the last six months than in the twenty eight previous years of his life, but that doesn't mean they should leave him alone.

He nods and a second later Lucy gives the baby a kiss on his forehead and makes her way out of the house.

Ryan holds his breath for a moment before turning around and looking at Sean, sitting in his playpen, black eyes looking back at him. What had been, at first, nothing but a whisper of hair are now brown curls that edge on black, framing a cherubic face with porcelain white skin and eyes that seem to look inside his very soul and just know him. Ryan never believed a word Mark and Lucy said, that the baby seemed more comfortable with him than with anyone else, that the baby would quiet when Ryan was in the room, or that Sean would eat his mashed potatoes easier if it was Ryan who fed him. It didn't seem to make sense, that a six month baby would know him, _know him_ , but-- Well, there was always a but.

When he sighs, Sean smiles at him, a big dopey smile that shows the gums that are still waiting for teeth, and he opens his arms wide and opens and closes his hands, as if wanting to reach for something but not knowing how. Sean can crawl, so far, and stand up if being helped, but that's about it. And yet, Ryan has never found a smarter baby, a more perfect soul.

"Oh, I know," Ryan says, closing the distance to the playpen.

The closer Ryan is, the wider Sean's smile seems to get. By the time he reaches the edge of the playpen, Sean is almost bouncing in his place, arms wide and open and the desire plain for him to read.

"You want up?"

Sean doesn't nod, but keeps on bouncing and grinning and drooling into his shirt with a duck on the front and Ryan melts under that smile and those eyes and those curls. He reaches into the playpen and picks Sean up and finds a comfortable position with his left arm under the baby and the right one around Sean's back.

Sean doesn't cry, doesn't whimper, he seems content to be in Ryan's arms, and Ryan sighs, making his way to the living room and sitting down. He reaches with his left arm for the control, now that the baby is settled on his leg and against his chest. He clicks on cartoons and Batman's reruns are on. Sean gurgles something that might have been "dude, you rock" but Ryan isn't certain.

Ryan grins, leaning forward, nose pressed against Sean's curls and breathes in. To Ryan's surprise, it smells like vanilla and oranges and the ocean, and so very much like Seth that Ryan's chest tightens and it's almost impossible for him to breathe.

"Is it really you?"

The words are nothing but a whisper leaving his lips, and his eyes are closed shut against the pain of having lost the one person who knew him the best. He bites his lower lip and knows that asking that question is stupid and insane and he really should stop hanging out so much with Mark, in this apartment, because half the time his heart misses this baby boy.

There are no answers, not that Ryan expected any, and when he sighs and pulls away, he sees Sean looking up at him.

Sean couldn't possibly know what was asked, or what it truly meant, but black eyes don't quite blink and find Ryan's blue ones and hold on. They seem to whisper things Ryan can't understand, but when Sean sighs softly, smile on his lips, and then leans forward, letting his weight drop onto Ryan's chest and he holds onto Ryan's shirt with both tiny fists, it says more than any words ever spoken.

"Okay, I get it now," Ryan says, grin on his lips and a nod. He sighs, finding a comfortable spot, and places a small kiss on top of the baby's head, running his fingers through silk soft curls. He doesn't even mind when Sean drools all over his t-shirt.

*****

_May, 2017_

 

Mark had never met Seth, because Ryan had hired him for the Newport Group months after Seth's death, but one late afternoon as they are watching a movie in the living room, Mark and Lucy in the loveseat, Sean in Ryan's lap, it's Lucy who brings it up.

"Have you ever been married?"

Sean's playing with Ryan's right hand, catching and then trying to hide it in between his own smaller ones. Ryan smiles at the carefree laughter on the baby's face, looking up towards Lucy. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Lucy says, blushing and ducking her head, the movie long forgotten in the background. "I'm really sorry, but at times it feels like there's so much we don't know about you. Like, I've never see you date, and I wondered... well, if maybe you had gotten married, divorced and that was why--" She clears her throat, shaking her head. "Forgive me. Really. Forget I even said--"

"I was married," Ryan surprises himself by saying, "once."

They don't say anything, seeming to understand that if interrupted, Ryan will close up once again. He sighs. Before Seth, he didn't have friends as close as these. And now, well, now he has something akin to an ulterior motive and he feels his cheeks heating up.

"He died," Ryan whispers, sighing, his left hand trembling as he holds onto Sean's back, tight around the fabric of his shirt. He runs his right hand through Sean's hair, now longer, cradling his face. "It was a long time ago."

Four years, six months, seventeen days--

They keep quiet, and for once, Ryan feels like talking about it.

"He was in a car accident." Ryan snorts, shaking his head, and his left hand moves to the back of Sean's head and holds on. The baby squirms on his lap and Ryan caresses his cheek. "It was so stupid. It was-- We were supposed to have a date, but I ran late at work. Some stupid problem about the digging at a site, and I had to cancel. He was on his way back home when--"

He pauses, because it has been three weeks -- the last time he went to visit the grave -- since he let himself think about it. He tells himself that he shouldn't dwell on the past, that it's not healthy for him, and that he has been given his soul back. He sighs, looking down at Sean and picks him up, settling him more comfortable on his lap. Sean blinks, looking up at him, and Ryan gives him a small smile. Sean doesn't seem to buy it.

I know, he thinks, the smile falling from his lips for he can't hold it any longer. I know. I miss you, you know? Even now, I still miss that you, in that lifetime.

"Couple of kids with too much drink in them and a red light and--"

The sentence ends there, because there's nothing else to say. No need to explain how getting that call to his cell while on his way back home after midnight was the worst thing he could have ever imagined. How hard it was to see Seth, lying on that table, eyes closed and skin cold under Ryan's touch. No need to say that he broke down in his bed after the ceremony, how he crawled under the sheets and hugged Seth's pillow and felt like he might die from the inside out, everything hurt so horribly and so deep. There's no need.

He sighs, shrugs, and looks down at Sean. Sean, who looks back at him with big black eyes that seem to fill his whole face, his mouth slightly open and the tip of a red tongue in between three teeth that makes him relax and sigh once again and the pain isn't as deep now.

"I'm sorry."

Ryan nods, because he doesn't want Lucy feeling guilty. He had never told them this, mostly because they gave him this new chance to maybe, just maybe, make it work and make his life worth living and his days worth getting out of bed for.

"I'm really sorry, Ryan. I didn't--"

"Raaayaaannn."

Ryan blinks, looking down at Sean who has this huge grin on his face. He bounces on Ryan's legs, heavy for thirteen months and Ryan's heart is tight once again, his chest making it impossible for him to take in a breath for all he can feel in this very second is endless love.

"Sean?" He glances at Lucy and Mark, both of them at the edge of their seat, faces expectant that Sean might repeat the word. "Sweetie, did you just--?"

"Raaayyaaannnn!"

Ryan nods, not knowing what else to say, and he hopes they don't hate him for being their son's first word. His right hand caresses Sean's cheek, chin, eyebrow and leans forward to place a kiss on his forehead. "I love you," he whispers against skin, nothing but air and not carrying the words, so soft Sean probably didn't even hear him. 

When he looks up, Mark's standing and Lucy's on the verge of tears and he gives the baby to them, because they are Sean's parents. Sean fusses for a moment before settling in his mother's arms and is cooed at and gives in and says once again, loud for the whole room to hear, "Rayyann!!"

Ryan has never been more in love in his life.

*****

_February, 2019_

 

"Tomo'ow?"

Ryan sighs, turning around to look at the three year old sitting next to him on the couch. Mark and Lucy have gone out, a date to rekindle the romance and Ryan couldn't find a better way to spend his Friday night than inside, with Sean and watching cartoons.

He should be able to say no, to shake his head and tell the kid that he's been spending way too much time in this house, almost every single free moment he has had. It's just wrong, for a thirty year old guy to look forward to seeing a three year old. Pedophile just doesn't even cut it.

"I don't think I can--"

"Tomo'oow!!!"

Ryan watches with eyes filled with love as Sean stands on the couch, almost wobbling, and Ryan can't help but reach out, place one hand on Sean's waist to keep the kid from falling down. "Sean--"

"Ryan, Tomo'oow!"

He chuckles, unable to do anything but, when Sean starts bouncing on small legs, his feet catching in between the cushions and he falls forward, into Ryan's waiting arms, and he hugs the kid close to his chest.

"Sean--"

"Zoo?"

Well, that really is Ryan's fault. He had promised, a couple of weeks ago, that he would take Sean to the zoo after watching half an hour of NatGeo and watching the lions and giraffes and hippos. Sean had wondered where animals like those could be found, and Ryan had said the zoo. Six years with Seth should have taught him that that inquisitive mind knew no boundaries, and that he would do anything to have Ryan by his side. So Sean had blinked, dark eyes big and a pout had followed, and Ryan had been forced to agree to take Sean to the zoo, as soon as Lucy said yes.

"I don't think we can." Ryan's fishing for excuses, he knows, and so does Sean apparently because he grins, and shakes his hand and throws his arms around Ryan's neck before kissing the collarbone. Ryan melts, as Sean probably thought he would.

It might be Sean's body, Ryan thinks, but it's Seth's underneath it all. And kisses and pouting are not beneath him.

"Zoo?"

Sean's voice is nothing but a whisper against Ryan's neck, and he sighs, giving in.

This is his life, right here, in Ryan's arms. This is the soul he promised always to love, and to be loved by in return. And it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter, that right now it's held inside a three year old body. It shouldn't matter, as long as he has this someone to love, right?

Sean pulls away, head tilted to the side, and looks at Ryan with black eyes and a small smile and Ryan can see inside those eyes all the years they spent together, the memories they held together, that they cherished. Ryan sighs, nodding as he does so.

"Sure."

"Lo'e y'u."

Ryan nods, his chest tight, and he returns the hug when Sean places his arms around his neck once again. He had wondered, for a moment, if Sean would actually remember their past, their love. And since the very first time Sean had said those words, baby words that have as much feeling as the ones Seth used to whisper during the night, Ryan has known that he does remember. Maybe not all, maybe he doesn't even know the reason why he loves Ryan so much, but he does. And Ryan will explain, one day, when Sean's a little bit older.

"I love you too, sweetie."

******

_August, 2020_

 

There are times when Ryan wonders if it might be the pain, the desolation he felt the years following Seth's passing, that has made him take hold of this idea. There has to be something wrong with him, there had to be something incredibly wrong with him, to be able to feel peace once again from the sheer act of holding a baby in his arms, of looking into dark eyes that shouldn't know anything and feel like he's looking at the other half of his soul.

Sean Austin Scully, four years and four months old, cannot be the soul of the man he loved. He cannot, Ryan tells himself in the darkness of his nights, when he lies alone in his bedroom, in the bedroom he once shared with the man he had promised his whole life to love, to spend it with, Sean cannot be Seth reborn. It's stupid. It's... idiotic, as Seth himself would say. It's lunacy born out of desperation, of desolation. It has to be.

And then, the next day, when even against his better judgment he still goes to the Scullys' house and Lucy tells him that Sean has been acting up, he's been quiet and sullen the past week, for as long as Ryan hasn't visited, Ryan sighs and tells her he'll talk with him.

Sean sits on his bed, with his small book filled with pictures opened next to his folded legs, not looking up even when Ryan walks in, fully knowing it's him.

"Hey," Ryan says, because even after all this time, after seventeen years have passed, he still always greets him like this.

Sean doesn't say a word, just keeps on watching the book, and Ryan knows that he's not reading. Seth could never read when upset.

"What's wrong?"

Sean grunts, a childish sound that punches Ryan on the stomach, leaving him without air.

Sean's four, his mind tells him, and he's not Seth.

And though his breathing is ragged and his chest aches with the newfound pain of that which he lost too early in life, he sighs and takes a seat on the armchair on the other side of the room.

"What's wrong?"

Sean shakes his head, just keeps on staring at the book and Ryan feels his patience slipping. "Sean--"

"Why haven't you come in a week?"

Ryan blinks, his chest tight and his hands closing into fists. This is a kid asking him to explain, and he will not--

"I remember you."

Ryan gasps, how could he not, and when he turns to look at Sean, black eyes stare back at him and he can see the recognition in them.

"You think I don't, and maybe, God, maybe this is me being stupid or... crazy or something, and I'm four but I remember you. I don't know how, but I remember you."

Ryan shakes his head, because denial is all he can muster in this moment, in this second in time when his whole life is being redefined.

He remembers me, Ryan thinks, tells himself, tries to talk himself into the truth that can only be a lie, he remembers me because I've been here all his life. Of course he remembers me.

And then Sean snorts, a sound so familiar to Ryan, a sound he has heard for nine years of his life, a sound that says so much with no words at all.

"I remember..." Sean's voice grows quiet, and his face furrows in a frown, and the curls might not be as prominent, and the eyes almost black instead of brown, and the skin might have no tan, but that look, that look Ryan could recognize anywhere. "I remember you, smiling at me. Hmm. Standing. Next to a door. You look. Younger. Younger than you are now, and yet not. Hmm."

There are tears in his eyes and this is stupid, really, stupid, because anyone who cares to ask knows how he met Seth, knows the exact way... but neither Lucy nor Mark ever asked, and so he never told, and Sean has no way of knowing--

"I remember... you, with books. Studying, I think. Always studying."

College, which they could not fathom not going to together, and Seth gave up Brown for him, to join him at Berkeley and two months into the first semester, Seth accepted that he couldn't have survived east coast weather.

"God, Ryan, I know you don't believe me--"

_I don't think I can_

"-- but you gotta, you really, really--"

And then Sean falls quiet and scrambles off the bed and makes his way to Ryan's side, pushing his legs apart and standing in between, so short in his four years of life, and yet... and yet--

"I adore you."

It's these words that are his undoing. Ryan nods, because he can't say no to this rightness in his heart, and he pulls Sean to his chest and Sean sighs, hugging him back, small arms that hold no force, nothing but love in them.

"I thought you... you're four, for God's sake, how can you be--?"

"I don't know," Sean whispers, his voice low, childish, but still Ryan can hear Seth's undertones in between the words. "I just... I remember you, Ryan, you gotta believe me. I remember you. I always remembered you."

And that, for now, should be enough.

There will be a time when they can talk more about this, when Sean's older -- ten years older than now, probably -- and they will find a way, to find middle ground.

When Ryan pulls away, and Sean's looking back at him, Ryan has to whisper, "Seth."

Sean smiles, nods, and reaches for Ryan's cheek. "I remember you, dude."

Ryan chuckles, shaking his head. "Smart ass."

"Dork."

When the minutes pass and the mood has changed, Ryan has to mention this. "Your mother said you were--"

Sean waves it off, like it's no big deal, like it doesn't matter at all that his mood was shot to hell for the week Ryan didn't visit.

"You can't do that, you know, right? You can't just--"

"You weren't here!"

"I thought--"

"I know what you thought, Ryan, but... you weren't here."

And it's funny, and weird, and all kinds of basis for further need of therapy in the way that Sean, who's only four and yet has more words than any kid his age should, talks to him like that.

"I missed you."

Ryan sighs, and figures, well, he was never immune to Seth saying that. "I know, but--"

I have to work, you have preschool. The irony of that sentence is not lost on him.

"We'll figure something out, okay?"

Sean nods, and when Ryan asks him about homework, about school and what they have taught him, Sean starts reciting the alphabet and Ryan can only grin.

*****

_April 8th, 2021_

 

Ryan sighs, pushing his chair back as he stands up. The meeting has finally finished, the contract is not quite signed, but right now it's just a matter of taking the guys for dinner and drinks, women afterwards and then he'll have the signature on the paper. He picks up his coat from the hanger on the way out of the conference room. He checks his watch and closes his eyes for a moment when he realizes it's almost five. It wasn't supposed to take this long. He's been here since last Friday. It wasn't supposed to take more than the weekend, and yet it's Thursday and Sean's birthday and the way he's going, he won't be able to get back to California until this weekend. Sean is going kill him.

I'm going to miss his birthday, he tells himself, hears himself whisper in his mind. He sighs once again, nodding at Stephen Ellison on his way out.

"See you at seven, then?"

Ryan smiles, small and confident, and nods. "Of course. I'll meet you there."

Dinner and drinks, alright, and he'll have the idiot sign the fucking contract. If he hadn't wanted to hear the proposal once again, in his own town. If he hadn't had urgent business to attend that meant Ryan had to stay beyond Monday morning, if the moron hadn't wanted one of his engineers to see the blueprints, if he hadn't wanted the zillion things the asshole wanted, then he would be home right now, helping Lucy prep everything for having fifteen four year olds in the house. He would be sitting in the living room watching Sean smile and grin, hearing him laugh and run. He would be happy, damn it.

He runs a hand over his face before putting on the thick coat, and makes his way slowly out of the Ellison Enterprises building, not looking back. The Seattle wind takes him by surprise and he pulls up the lapels of his coat against his neck, freezing in earnest. Seth would have hated this weather. Seth would have frozen in two seconds time, mouth open to bitch about the soft rain and the dark clouds and the cold air all around him. And he thought he could deal with Brown, leave the sunny weather of California.

His throat chokes up for a moment, a second, before clearing it and walking down the street to where he parked his car. Getting in, he takes out his cell phone, which he didn't turn on this morning. Afraid of Sean, he recognizes, because knowing the kid like he does, Sean would have been calling incessantly until Ryan picked up and told him the truth, and then they would have fought on the phone and that was something Stephen didn't need to hear. Placing the phone back in his coat pocket, he makes his way back to the hotel.

After he has showered, after the warm water pouring out of the shower head has cleaned all the darkness he could feel on his very pores, towel wrapped around his waist and another one in his hands, he walks out of the bathroom and to his bedroom. He eyes the phone on the nightstand with a bit of apprehension, knowing that having his cell phone off the whole day was cowardice, and that calling right now, when the party has to be winding down, the four year olds falling asleep on their mothers' laps, is even more so.

But he can't stop himself from hearing Sean's voice anymore than he can stop himself from breathing, and so he takes a seat on the bed and picks up the phone. It's almost six now and he's tired and guilty, and those two things are never a good combination. He dials the number and waits for a moment, and on the second ring, Mark picks up.

"Mark, hi, how are you?"

_"Ryan? Wow. I thought you'd never call."_

Ryan grimaces, understanding perfectly what Mark isn't saying with those words. That Sean has been impossible, that he has been trying to call his cell phone and it has been off all this time, that the party went horribly; all because of him.

"Yeah, I know. The meeting went long, ended up having lunch through it. God. Hmm. Is Sean--?"

 _"He had the phone with him up until ten minutes ago, when Lucy asked him to give the cake to his friends who were leaving."_ A pause, a hesitation. _"He called your cell."_

He sighs, nodding as he does so. He eyes his cell phone, charging next to the cradle of the phone, not yet on. "I can imagine."

_"He was... worried."_

Mark, always a thoughtful guy. Too decent to say, my son has been going crazy over you. And I have no idea why that is.

"I can imagine," Ryan can only say.

_"He said you promised you wouldn't miss his birthday."_

He has to groan at this, in the back of his throat, and it pains him somewhere in his chest, so deep inside him it might not be him anymore, that he has caused this kind of anguish to Sean. "I know."

And he had, days before, as Monday had turned into Tuesday and he was certain today, today, Stephen would sign and he would be able to get back to California with enough time to spare. Even today, he had been praying the guy would give in and fucking sign already and he could catch a late flight, pay whatever it might cost him, and actually arrive, even if the party was winding down and Lucy was cleaning up afterwards. As long as he arrived today, he would be fine. And now, well, now, he didn't even have that.

"It wasn't supposed to last this long," he whispers, tiredness in his very voice. "I've been here almost a week, goddamn it."

_"It's okay. Hmm. I'll call Sean now. I think there are only two little girls waiting for Lucy and their mom to finish talking. The party ended about half an hour ago."_

He sighs, pinching his nose, because he can't stop himself. He has never missed a party before.

Sean's first birthday was an intimate affair, only Mark's and Lucy's parents, a few close friends and their small children, and Ryan. Ryan, standing there, with Sean in his arms, proud not to be the godfather -- even though he had been asked, countless times, and yet he kept on refusing on the mere principle that he couldn't be in love with his godson -- and yet be here, in the midst of this family.

Second birthday wasn't as intimate, more friends and children, barely ten, but enough noise to give him a headache by the time he reached the apartment and yet he hadn't had as much fun in months. Third one was a small party, twenty kids, and Ryan helping from ten in the morning, the party starting at two in the afternoon, up to seven at night when everything was finally clean and arranged once again. This year was supposed to be just like that.

"Okay, thanks."

He waits, silently, trying to hear as much going on at the other end of the line as he can. There are voices in the background, girls' laughter, the twin daughters of Claire, a friend of Lucy's, six years old. There's crying, a kid must have fallen or tripped, the door closing loudly and then someone picking up the phone once again.

And then there's silence on the other end, nothing but silence and Ryan knows that Sean has moved to the kitchen, probably, while the parents are still outside.

Silence, cold and unforgiving, saying so many things with not even a whisper. So many things, accusing him of lying and deceiving, being mad at him and not even a fucking word spoken.

"I'm sorry." The words are spoken low and in undertones, nothing but apprehension and regret in them. He hopes Sean can hear it, he hopes Sean understands. "Sean--"

_"Are you still in Seattle?"_

Right to point, like Seth would get when he was mad. So very mad, there would be no expression on his face, nothing Ryan could read when he was able to read Seth like an opened book. So very mad, and sad, sad, sadness Ryan could almost hear in Sean's voice. He sighs, nodding as he does so even if Sean can't see him. "Yeah, I am."

_"When are you coming back?"_

Five years old and already asking questions, demanding answers. Such an old soul, like Kirsten used to say. Such an old soul in such a young body. 

He couldn't lie to Sean, even if he wanted to. There would be no point in that. "Tomorrow, maybe, if the contract gets signed today. Otherwise--"

_"I tried calling you last night."_

Ryan hangs down his head, chin touching his chest. God, he had talked with Sean early in the afternoon yesterday, and after having dinner with Stephen, after hearing that the man wanted to see the proposal again, to show it to his engineer the following day in the morning, he knew he wasn't going to be arriving home in time. Knowing that, he hadn't answered Sean's call at night.

"I know."

_"And this morning."_

Silence from him because, really, what is there to be said.

_"Your cell phone was off."_

"Yes, I... Hmm."

_"Are you coming tomorrow?"_

"I hope so."

Ryan had, in a way, expected childish behavior, crying and screaming, demanding and whatnot, but this is Seth. Seth, who Ryan had lived with for nine years. Seth, who when really upset did silence like no other, whose face would show nothing but calmness and coldness and it was then, only then, that Ryan would feel like an ass for putting that mask there, where joy and happiness would radiate from brown eyes. And Sean's doing it right now, being calm and collected, asking questions that he wants answers to, and that's it. No demanding, not being a child. Telling himself not to be a child, probably, even if he wanted to act like one.

 _"I have to go,"_ Sean says after a moment, his voice with undertones of the things not said. _"Mom's calling me."_

"I know."

_"I'll--"_

But he doesn't want to hear Sean's misdirection, he doesn't want to hear the usual, _I understand, it's okay._ He doesn't want to hear what Seth would tell him because he's been the one doing the wrong thing now, and he needs to ask for forgiveness. 

"I'll call you tomorrow, after the meeting. Let you know the flight I'm taking, when I'm arriving."

_"Sure."_

Ryan takes in a shaky breath, his chest tight and cold, and such disinterested demeanor from such a young child. He wonders if Seth was like this, when he was young. He wonders and presses his mouth in a thin line. "I'm sorry."

_"I gotta go."_

"I know."

_"I'll talk to you, then."_

"Sure, Sean. I love--"

The phone line is dead in his hands before he can finish the words, sentiment dying on his lips. He sighs, shakes his head and places the phone on the cradle. He reaches for his cell phone and flips it on and there's a message letting him know that he has voice mail. He checks his inbox. Only two calls, one from last night, one at mid morning. Sean even resisted the urge to call him a dozen times. Fuck.

In the first one, he can hear Sean's voice. _"You're cell phone is off. Something wrong? Take care. Bye."_

The second one, is even shorter. Just Sean sighing on the line, before a harsh, _"Whatever, dude."_

It's not until the following day, early in the afternoon that he's able to leave for the airport. He does as he said he would, calling the Scullys' house. It's Lucy who picks up.

"I'm at the airport. I told Sean I'll call him, is he--?"

 _"Hmm, Ryan. I--"_ She sighs, and Ryan can see her pinching the bridge of her nose. _"He's been really weird since yesterday. Didn't seem to enjoy his party. I... he's not talking much right now."_

"I said I'd called him, I mean--"

_"I know, Ryan, but. I don't think he wants to talk with anyone right now. He's been all quiet and moody."_

"Did he say he didn't want to talk to me?"

_"No, he's taking a nap right now."_

A nap? In the middle of the afternoon? Sean hasn't had a nap in the afternoon without a hell of a fight since he was three.

_"But I can wake him up--?"_

Ryan shakes his head, sighing as he does so. "No, no, no need. I'll be arriving in California in about four hours. I'll... I'll go there straight there from the airport. Tell him that when he wakes up."

_"Okay, sure. I'm sorry, Ryan. Really. I don't know what's wrong with him."_

Ryan sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. He's punishing me, that's what. "See you in a couple of hours."

_"Take care."_

It's past eight at night when he finally arrives at the Scully home, tired and with jetlag up to his neck, and he knocks on the door. Mark opens it, smiling at him and taking one of his suitcases from his hand.

"Hey, there, man. Wow. You look like you could sleep for a week."

Ryan gives him a small smile. "Yeah, well, you're not so far from the truth."

Mark nods, helping Ryan to put all three pieces of luggage in the living room before jerking his head toward the staircase. "Lucy's upstairs, watching TV, and though Sean was supposed to be asleep an hour ago, I'm pretty sure he's waiting for you."

Ryan bites the inside of his cheek, wondering what Mark thinks of this weird relationship he has with his son. "I--"

"He missed you a lot."

"I know," he says, hanging his head. "I missed him too."

He doesn't need to be told twice, and so he takes out the small package from one of his suitcases before making his way up to Sean's bedroom.

The lights are turned off, but he knows Seth, and the kid has a thing for playing video games in the dark -- the Playstation, Ryan's present even though the parents objected at first -- with the volume all the way down so his mother won't know he's still awake. He pushes the door open slightly, watching the shadows falling over Sean's shoulders and giving him an eerie aura. A don't fuck with me, kind of vibe. I'm pissed at you, so step back, damn it sense that Ryan has gotten up close and personal with before. 

He lets the door fall closed behind him, and watches with avid affection, with nothing but sheer love and Sean's shoulder tense slightly, even if he doesn't glance away from the TV, concentration all on the game. Ryan sighs, sitting down on the bed and watches Sean play for a good five minutes before Sean's character dies on the screen.

Sean sighs, a loud sound in the otherwise silent room, and places the controller down on the carpet.

Ryan wonders for a minute about trying to talk to him, about reaching forward and touching his shoulder, maybe, caressing his cheek. But he knew Seth for so long, knows Sean now, and instead he takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"You came," Sean says after a moment, his body rigid, his shoulders tense, and still not looking at him.

Ryan smiles, apologetic tone all over his face, and sighs. "I missed you."

And Ryan can almost see Sean sighing, his shoulders relaxing, if only a bit. He can imagine Sean's face in a grimace, not wanting to give in but unable not to do so, because Seth once told him that those words, the simple words like I miss you and I love you were his undoing. 

He could use more words, words that Seth showed him how to speak, how to say, how to whisper in the stillness of the night and mean every one of them.

"I wanted nothing more than to be here, with you." The words are spoken softly, nothing but a whisper, nothing but breath leaving his lips. "I wanted to forget everything and see you, be with you, you have to believe me. But you know I couldn't do it. I would have, if I could."

Nothing is his answer, nothing but more silence, but Ryan is not to be stopped, nor deterred. He sits and waits for Sean to give in, to give up, and it's only a minute later that he hears Sean sighing and turning to look at him over his shoulder.

"You going back to Seattle?"

Ryan is familiar with that line of questioning, with the tone and the slight grimace on Sean's lips. He shakes his head. "Deal has been signed. I'm not the engineer in charge of the project. It's another guy's responsibility from now on."

Sean nods, slowly, standing up from the carpeted floor. The soft light coming from the television allows Ryan to watch Sean's profile, the angle of his jaw, the set of his shoulders and the way his hands are opened, inviting, and Ryan wants nothing but to touch them, to take them in his. 

"I missed you," Ryan whispers once again, and Sean snorts, a shake of his head, before slowly walking toward Ryan. He stands before Ryan's knees, and he pulls them apart, Sean stepping between his legs. His hand reaches out, not being able to stop himself, touching Sean's dark curls, the nape of his neck. "God, how I've missed you."

Sean sighs, leaning into the touch, placing his hands on Ryan's hips. The touch is innocent and tender at the same time, and Ryan breathes in the earthy smell of the shampoo and the child's cologne he gave Sean months ago.

"Don't do that again."

"Sean--"

"Don't call me that."

Ryan sighs, nodding as he does so, leaning his head forward until his chin rests on top of Seth's head. "Seth--"

"I adore you and you leave me."

Ryan's breath catches in his throat, and he shakes his head forcefully, hating the words, the harshness of them in the darkness, the mere sound of them. "Never. I could never--"

"Then don't leave me again."

A shaky breath that makes his throat close down, his eyes sting and his hands tighten on either side of the child's face. "Never."

"Good." A pause, a touch of silence, before Seth brushes his cheek against Ryan's chest and squeezing his hips once, pulls apart. Seth's eyes are shinning brightly and there's a sad smile on his lips, before shaking his head and grinning at Ryan. "I do believe you owe me a present."

Ryan smiles, even though the back of his eyes still sting and his hands squeeze where Seth's neck meets the collarbone. He nods, leaning forward, lips close to Seth's ear. He can't stop the smile from his lips. "Happy birthday, Seth."

His lips place a small kiss on Seth's cheek, making the kid chuckle, giggle in the back of his throat. The heavy cloud over his chest seems to lighten, to burn into ashes in the second that Seth makes that sound. Ryan sighs, the back of his hand touching Seth's cheek, and Seth looks back at him with so much emotion in dark eyes, darker than they should be, but eyes looking back at him nonetheless. His chest is heavy, yet not with sorrow, but with love, and he sighs as he reaches inside his jacket pocket for that which he was hiding.

He hands it to Seth and it takes the boy a moment to blink and graze the edges of the worn paper with the back of his fingers, to relax his intake of breath before looking up at Ryan. "You still have it? After all these years--"

Ryan sighs, because he couldn't have parted with the map to Tahiti anymore than he could have stopped breathing, anymore than he could have stopped loving Seth, the memory of him, the image of him.

The map, now almost eighteen years old since that first time it exchanged hands, the very first time Ryan was leaving Seth -- for good, apparently, with Ryan going back to Chino and his mom -- stares back at him with the words turning yellow, the colors not as bright as they once were. It exchanged hands once again, the second time, when Ryan was ready to leave for Chino and Seth was doing his best to pretend that he wasn't pissed as hell at him. The third time, the last time, it was Seth who gave it back to Ryan, when he announced that he wasn't going to go to Providence, but signing up at Berkeley for the fall term, because he didn't want to leave Ryan alone with the memory of Marissa dying in his arms.

That had been their second beginning, that had been the beginning of them.

And now, as tradition now seems to dictate it, it's Ryan giving it back to Seth.

"I'll give it back," Seth whispers, his voice low, his hand reaching out to touch Ryan's cheek, and Ryan can only lean into the touch. "One day, when I'm older. I'll give it back."

"I know you will."

Ryan lets the promise hang silent, almost unspoken and yet whispered, and they stand there, looking at each other, in the darkness of the room.

*****

_June 17th, 2021_

 

Seth wakes up early on a Thursday morning. He turns on his Batman night lamp with the touch of his fingers on the glass, and he grins. Ryan's present to him, years ago. So very long ago, it feels like he's had it his whole life, like Ryan. He rushes out of his bed and to the small closet, choosing a black short sleeves t-shirt. He changes in a hurry. He has art as his first class today, in preschool, and that might be the only thing he likes about it. 

"Sean!"

"I'm coming, mom!"

He takes the stairs as quickly as he can, but with his short legs, that's really not saying much. His hand holds tightly to the railing, Ryan having lectured him on it enough times not to forget now. He walks into the kitchen, his mom placing the bowl of cereal at his place.

"There you are, sweetie."

He gives her a hug, and she places a kiss on the top of his head. He eats his cereal with his superman spoon. He takes the paper from where it's placed for his dad, and scrunches up his face, trying to read it. Be patient, Ryan told him only last week. You'll be reading in no time, I know you will.

Ryan has given him tons of books, books he used to love, before. Before, which is nothing but scrambles of images and memories, like a dream he just woke up from and knows he should remember but can hardly do so. He has the collection of Lord of the Rings and knows he'll love to read it once again, might be the only five year old with a few known words in elfish, but he doesn't quite care. He was a geek before, he can certainly be one once again.

His mom drives him to school before going to work. She's been working again, since last year. Interior design, which she's happy with. He really likes it when his mom is happy.

Seth sits in his class by eight in the morning. He's grinning, hands covered with paint and they are making hand prints on pieces of paper. He's very careful with his, wanting nothing but perfection for this one, because he'll give it to Ryan.

He chose blue paint for this one, almost the color of Ryan's eyes, and he can't help but nod at himself when he lifts his hands from it. He wiggles his fingers, grinning as he does so. His whole palms are blue. The teacher says that she'll write down their names at the base of their papers, and he wishes he could do it in his own handwriting, but his tries at writing haven't really been that successful. Ryan has been trying to help him, in the afternoons they spend together, and he keeps saying it's only a matter of time, not to worry.

The rest of the day is not as much fun. There’s playing with blocks, which he doesn't like, and having a nap and drinking milk and reading stories and then his mom is picking him up once again, taking him home.

He's sitting at his small desk, notebook before him, doing his homework. It's only vocals, but he's careful with it. Ryan said he would come today because he didn't come yesterday, and he'll want to go over his homework and he wants Ryan to be happy.

"Sweetie?"

He looks over his shoulder at his mom, standing by his door, hand clutching the edge of the same.

"Mom?" He frowns, tilting his head to the side. There's a tight line around her eyes, her lips pressed together, and her eyes look at bit red. He blinks, taking in a deep breath. The pencil falls down from his hand. "Mommy?"

She walks into the bedroom, a small smile on her lips, but there's nothing if not sadness in her whole demeanor. Seth finds it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"Sweetie, I--?"

He remembers this expression, then, in a second. He has seen it before, in every bad news ever given to him, in every moment that Ryan has had to leave him behind. To go save Marissa, to go to Chino, when Trey was hurt, when they almost went their separate ways to college. He knows this expression. He's come to hate it.

"What happened?"

"I'm sorry," she says, taking a seat on his bed, and he can't help but go to her side, in between her legs like he has done with Ryan so many times before. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry--"

There are tears in his eyes as he blinks, pain in his chest, his throat tight. He shakes his head. "No, tell me. What--?"

"Your dad called. An old friend of his called him, knows that we've become closed over the years--"

"Tell me!" His voice is loud, it must be, but he can't quite hear it. His ears feel tamped and his heart is beating too fast in his chest. He blinks, and his eyes sting, from the inside out, and his hand shakes as he moves one to his mouth. He reacted just like this when Kirsten told him that Ryan had placated Oliver with a gun. 

"Ryan's been in an accident."

The breath leaves his lungs. There's no air, not enough air, to fill them, and he shakes his head once, taken back by the force of the pain.

He wants denial, he wonders if denial is a tool he isn't allowed to use, because he can feel the pain clearly. In his chest, in his hands, in his neck, in his very soul.

Ryan's left me, he can't help but think. He promised, and yet, he's left me behind.

His lower lip trembles and he bites it, hard, and wonders if he'll bleed. He shakes his head once again. It can't be, he wants to say, but destiny isn't kind to him, has never been. He lost a life before, he has lost this one as well. He might as well be dead, for the pain he's feeling. His hands fall to his sides and he clenches them into fists, a trait that he picked up from Ryan so many years ago, so many now, that he can't even remember.

"No," he whispers, not in denial but in hope.

His mother shakes her head, her dark hair falling straight over her shoulders. She looks pained, for her, or for the loss of her friend, he has no idea. Right now, he really doesn't care. 

"I'm sorry, I--"

He shakes his head and moves away from her. He doesn't care what she has to say, it's not important. Nothing but his pain is important. He moves to the window, looking out into their backyard. It's a small one, nothing but green grass and his tricycle. Ryan said he'd get him a bicycle next year. Seth wanted a skateboard, Ryan refused. Too dangerous, he said, you could get hurt. Seth snorts. You shouldn't have been driving then, his mind supplies.

He reaches forward, touching the windowsill. He remembers lights being on when he would look out his window. He remembers feeling a sense of peace when they would be on, longing when they would be off. He remembers.... God, why can't he remember more? Why can't he remember details? All he remembers is this love in his chest, in his very core, and now it's tainted with pain and loss and hurt and desperation and--

"Sean?"

He doesn't want to hear her. He doesn't care about what she has to say. Go, he wants to tell her, but he can't quite make himself do it. Go, just, God, just go.

He might not have said the words, but moments later, he can hear her closing the door of his bedroom after herself.

He stands there, looking out his window for minutes, longer than that maybe, because by the time he pulls away from the sight, the sun is setting and his heartache seems to have intensified. He sits down before the TV and turns on the console Ryan gave him, the vocals long forgotten. He doesn't care about homework. He'll do it before going to bed, in the darkness of his night, when there is no one sitting next to him on the bed, running his hands through his hair, because now there will be no one visiting him anymore.

He sits before the TV and starts playing car chases, which feels bittersweet as he moves his body with the car, wishing them, willing them to go faster. He misses the presence next to him, the solid body next to his own, the slow smile that would grace thin lips. And if he wipes his cheeks every other moment, wetness on his fingers, he doesn't think about it. There's no point. There's no point at all. The pain is all inside him.

That night, his dad tries to talk with him. Seth shakes his head and keeps quiet. His parents let him be. He's not allowed to go to the funeral. He's too young, they say, and even though he scrunches up his face and goes to his room, pissed off at their lack of understanding, he knows that he's only five and he wouldn't have let a five year old go to a funeral either. But they just don't get it, they can't get it. He has lost his soulmate, damn it, can't they understand?

His teacher worries about him, talks with his parents, because for someone as talkative as he used to be, he becomes subdued and quiet in the following days, the following weeks. He misses the presence in his life, God, he misses it like he has never missed anything. He misses the other half of his soul.

It's not until the end of the month, when his mother tells him to at least put some order to his comics, if he's going to have so many of them -- all presents from Ryan, all of them, every single month, like clockwork -- when he finds the piece of paper. It's nothing but a white sheet of paper, two prints of his small hands on it, dark blue. His breath catches in his throat. He was supposed to give it to Ryan. He was supposed to give it to Ryan before--

He takes in a deep breath and thinks. He's done this before. He... died, didn't he? He had to. He doesn't remember, sure, who would, but he died, and he came back. Somehow, he found his way back to Ryan. And so will Ryan.

Seth nods to himself. Yeah, yeah, that's right. Ryan has to. Ryan will find a way, and Ryan will find him. Ryan will find him. Right? Ryan found him once, he can do it again. Or Seth will find him.

Either way, they'll find each other. And when they do, he thinks, looking down at piece of paper in his hands, two small blue hand prints on it. He folds the paper in two and places it in one of his Superman folders in his small bookcase. He glances at the map of Tahiti, inside of the folder as well, now next to the painting, the folded lines so creased, he has to be very careful when he opens it. He doesn't want to break it. That map means more to them than words ever will.

He will meet Ryan again.

And when he does, Seth thinks, he'll give Ryan the painting with the map.

*****

November 20th, 2025

 

The years pass like sand through his fingers, like memories of a dream. He tries to remember everything, to cherish every single thought, every conversation they had. He fails. He thinks he remembers the way Ryan used to smell when Seth would sit on his lap, reach out and touch Ryan's cheek, his jaw, his chin. He thinks he can almost feel Ryan's hand on his neck, the back of his knuckles caressing his cheek. He can't. He can barely remember, and the memories in his mind seem all jumbled up. What he can remember, what little Sean Austin Scully can remember, is the incredible and endless love he used to feel for a man he knew a lifetime ago.

He makes friends when he reaches elementary school, this time around. He isn't as quiet as he remembers himself being. He has friends, he thinks as he sits in English class, the teacher, Mrs. Cortegana trying to teach him things he already knows, spellings he knows by memory. He has friends. Richard, a nice kid with dark hair and dark eyes who smiles each time Seth looks his way. Emily, a little girl who lives three blocks from his house, and her parents are friends with his own parents. He has friends. And even the solace that such knowledge brings to him, it's the very loss of the person who meant the most to him that hurts him, that pains him, when he least expects it to.

He forgets all about the big house he used to live in, the bittersweet memories the sight of a pool house, sky clear and the ocean on the horizon used to bring to him. He forgets it all, except that which he misses the most.

On a Saturday afternoon when he's nine, his mother insists that he dresses properly. He doesn't want to wear the nice pants she bought for him, nor the blue shirt that makes his neck itch. But she insists, and this time he doesn't have anyone to speak to her for him, someone who might insists that he can wear what he wants, that for a nine year old, he's older than he appears. So he pouts, stomps his feet up the stairs and changes from the jeans and t-shirt he had been planning to wear.

He jumps onto the back of the car, his father driving and his mother in the passenger seat. He looks out the window, watching his street move past it, slowly, leaving behind the neighborhood he knows. He folds his arms on his chest and bites the inside of his cheek, scrunching up his nose and squinting his eyes, trying to bring into the forefront of his mind that which eludes him the most when he needs it like air.

"Sean?"

He sighs, turning from the window and looking at his mother looking back at him over her shoulder. He doesn't say anything because, with the mood he is in at the moment, he might end up saying things he'll be grounded for later on.

She smiles at him, and he can't help it, that's his mother right there, so he smiles back, nothing but a curl of his lips, the actions sending a shiver of warmth through his body in a memory that blinks into oblivion when he wants to hold onto it. "It's going to be fine, sweetie. Really. You remember Mrs. Parker? Remember how I told you she gave birth? We're gonna see her new baby. I'm sure you'll like him."

Seth snorts, turning back around to look out the window and he hears his father speaking. "Let him be, honey. He'll stop pouting once we reach the house."

He probably won't stop pouting because he really hates these pants, and the shirt keeps on making his neck itch and he wishes he were home, playing on his Playstation 3, instead of here.

They reach the other house before Seth knows it, and he climbs out of the car when his mother opens the door for him.

Even for him, he's quiet, as they walk to the entrance, his parents behind him. He glances over his shoulder and yeah, they have something in their hands. A present for the new baby, most certainly. Boring, he thinks. He rolls his eyes and tells himself to calm down, he doesn't want to get grounded this weekend, not when Ricky is coming over tomorrow to play the new game his mother brought him a couple of days ago.

The door opens and he smiles when he needs to, says his hellos to Mr. Parker and lets his mother lead him into the living room with her hand on his shoulder. He sits quietly on the couch, looking down at his hands on his lap, probably looking as bored as he feels.

Conversation moves over him, around him, asking about mutual acquaintances and friends and who got married and who got divorced. It's minutes later that he hears the steps on the staircase and it's only now that he looks up.

There's a woman walking down, one hand on the banister, the other cradling something to her chest.

"Sweetie," Seth hears somewhere close by, but his eyes stay glued to the small bundle in a blue blanket. "I told you to wait for me, I could have--"

"Nonsense," the woman says, not once halting her step, her left hand moving to cradle the bundle closer to her chest when she reaches the first floor. "I'm fine. He's almost a month old, Joseph, there's no need--"

She chuckles as her husband reaches her side, his hand moving to her elbow, helping her sit down in the armchair at the end of the couch.

"I'm fine," the woman says with another chuckle, and Seth notices that the man rolls his eyes.

"Yes, yes. Just stay seated, okay? Want something? Orange juice, water, tea--"

She chuckles again, and Seth has to accept that her laughter is infectious, nice and warm. He doesn't even know her name, but he's certain he likes her.

"Forgive Joseph," she says, looking at Seth's parents. "He's gone crazy after the baby was born."

"The doctor said--"

She rolls her eyes with the expression of someone who has heard that diatribe one too many times. "The doctors are overreacting. I feel fine."

Seth tells himself to keep his cool, to play nice and young and stupid, but he can't. He stands up and moves to the armchair, standing very close to the woman, yet his eyes look for skin in between all the blue fabric of the blanket.

He hears a chuckle from behind him, and knows it comes from his mother. "Oh, Claire, sorry. Sean's--"

"It's okay," Claire Parker says, looking at him. Her right hand reaches out, touching his chin, and it's only now that he meets her eyes. Blue eyes. Sparkling blue eyes that say so much with only one look, that whisper promises to be made and losses to be righted. His heart almost sings in pain. "Sean?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Parker." Seth says politely, because polite will get him everything, or at least almost everything with grown ups.

She smiles back at him. "Good afternoon, Sean. Do you want to see the baby?"

He nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet, biting the inside of his cheek. The pain in his chest, this incredible pain that has been with him so long, it feels like he's known it all his life, shifts and changes. And that's wrong, because he's almost sure he knew happiness once. He knew what being happy felt like. It's only now, the last four years, that the pain hasn't stopped radiating from his very being. And now it's shifting again, seeming to whisper into his ear, and yet Seth can't quite hear the words.

Claire nods, pushing back one of the edges of the blue blanket, and Seth's eyes move down the initials hand embroidered in the corner, RSP, to the small being cradled lovingly.

"This is my son, Sean. Randall Scott Parker."

Seth's certain words are being spoken after that, but he hears nothing. All he can see are tiny hands clenched into fists, moving around; a small face scrunched up in confusion, lips pressed into a tight line, eyes closed shut.

"Hey," Seth whispers quietly, his hand reaching out to touch the baby's cheek.

"Sean--"

"It's okay, Lily, let Sean touch Randall. Don't worry."

Seth's hand halts for a moment, a second, but then the baby blinks. The small hands loosen their tight hold, his lips relax, the face seems to smooth, and then the baby blinks once again, opening his eyes and staring back at Seth with wide and clear blue eyes.

Seth can almost hear the sound of waves crashing onto the shore, he's certain he can smell the ocean in the baby's blanket, oranges and vanilla all mixed together, making the smell a perfect fit in his memory. He leans forward, the back of his fingers, his knuckles, touching the flawless milky white skin as blue eyes bore into his.

"Hey," he says again, and the pain in his chest recedes to nothing but a memory, breath moves into his lungs, and love shines in his eyes. He grimaces slightly, not in pain but in love, and he can't believe what he's seeing for a second.

Ryan blinks, knowledge of years in the eyes of a thirty seven days old baby, small hand with five perfect fingers on each one, reach out, palms wide open, wanting to be picked up. His mouth opens, as if he wants to say something, but words fail him, because he doesn't know how to speak them. But blue eyes blink, and words aren't needed, because Seth can see them perfectly clear.

I love you, is said in those eyes. I found you. You're here. I missed you.

Seth nods, smiles, and allows himself to touch the baby's cheek once again, the tiny nose and the soft forehead.

Randall Scott Parker, born October 13th, 2025. Seven pounds, eleven ounces, a month before his due date, in an emergency C-section.

That knowledge, those very few words, changes Seth's life from this second on.

I know, he's certain he's saying back with his eyes. I missed you too. I missed you so much. I'm here. I've found you. I'm not letting you go again.

Nothing else is said as the baby coos and Seth's more than happy with just standing here, next to him, and looking back at Ryan, looking back at who he had thought he lost, but has found yet again. They look at each other, smile, and breathe.


End file.
